Aftermath
by Songbyrd
Summary: So what happpened after that kiss? Rating for slightly smutty future chapters.
1. Chapter 1

"You came back. I always knew you were a good man."

I don't know what I am doing. I close the distance between us and look into the black of his eyes. He stares at me, silent. There is something in his gaze that I don't quite recognize. Desire certainly, I've seen that before, but there is something else. Hope? Longing? Surely not…could it be love? He wants me, I know he wants me and for the first time I realize that I want him too. Slowly, barely breathing, I raise my mouth to his and the world ends at that moment.

He pulls me into his body and I can feel his hands running up and down my back. My arms are wrapped around him and all I can feel is his mouth on my mouth, his tongue dancing with mine, a fire in my body that I've never known. I can't breathe but I don't care because all I want is more of his skin, his mouth, his caress. I clutch his shoulder and press my body against his, pushing him up against the mast and feeling his hardness against me. So this is what passion feels like. I want to rip off his clothes and ravish him right here. I am tempted to do this. Somewhere in the back of my mind I know this is wrong, that I am hurting my dear, sweet Will by kissing this man, but I don't care because I have released a dam in my soul and now all I can do is rush along with the flood. I am breaking inside because I know that I have to trap him, but how can I do it now that I know what it feels like to truly be one with a person who is so like me? Two peas in a pod, he called us. Images flash behind my closed eyes – his arm around me that night on the island, his eyes dancing as he told me men's clothing didn't suit me, his mouth so close to mine only days before this. I can't do it. I am falling for this man who knows me better than I know myself. I can't do it.

I don't know how, but I am blinking back tears and my hand is fumbling with the lock on the mast and somehow I manage to shut it around his wrist. I hear it click shut rather than feeling it. I feel nothing now that his lips have left mine, only a vague sort of emptiness that hurts more than any pain I have ever felt. I gaze desperately into his eyes, searching for something I can't explain.

"It's after you, not the ship. It's not us. It was the only way, don't you see?"

I am babbling and I know it but I can't manage to take my eyes from his. He is grinning that damned grin and I see not hate, not fear, but recognition. As if he knew all along that I would do this, as if he would have done the same thing had our roles been reversed. It is this recognition that makes me lean towards him for one final kiss, but I know that if I close the gap between us I will never be able to let him go.

"I'm not sorry," I state defiantly. Sorry for what? For kissing him? For betraying him? I don't know. He is still smiling at me.

"Pirate," he whispers. The word is a caress and I wonder how he can speak so tenderly to the woman who has murdered him. If I don't leave now I will not be able to.

Suddenly I am outside my body and floating high above the Pearl. I watch myself walk away, watch myself lie to Will, watch myself resolutely keep my eyes on the land in front of us, never looking back. But though my body has the option of  
keeping its eyes on land, I cannot look away from the man chained to the mast. He escapes from the chains, as I knew (hoped) he would, but it is too late. The beast has risen. I pray that he has some plan, some last minute trick up his sleeve, some way to put right what I've made wrong. I plead with him silently to run, to get away, to do anything but stand there with that look on his face. He draws his sword.

"Hello beastie."

I cannot look away as he charges the creature, slashing wildly. It is the bravest and most beautiful thing I have ever seen and all I can think is "Please God, no." As he is lost in the hideous maw of that damned creature I begin to scream. I scream so loudly it drowns out the noise of the Pearl crashing down into the sea. I scream so loudly I cannot hear my own guilty conscience muttering yourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfaultyourfault.

I wake up still screaming.

* * *

Will barges through the door of the room I have been sharing with Tia Dalma and quickly crosses to the bed, shaking me.

"Elizabeth. Elizabeth!"

All I can do is look at him. My guilt overpowers the terror of the nightmare and I do, in fact, stop screaming. "I dreamt…" I whisper. "Jack…" I croak, my voice choking on his name.

"Oh," is all that he says, his voice sounding oddly small and detached. He breaks eye contact, suddenly becoming very interested in the floral pattern of the bedspread. There is a wall between us that wasn't there before. One mention of Jack's name and Will's defenses are up. He knows, I'm sure of it. I want so much to talk to him about it, to understand what he's feeling, to let him know how confused and upset and sad I am and how much I still love him. Despite this, I cannot start the conversation. And so I wait in silence for him to finish his examination of Tia Dalma's coverlet.

After an eternity of waiting, he looks up at me again, those infuriating puppy's eyes filled with anxiety, as if I have already chosen Jack over him. If only it were that easy.

"I saw you, Elizabeth. I saw you kiss him." He seems to be fighting with himself, as if the next thing he wants to say is too painful or too cruel to escape his mouth. "Why?" is all that he manages to get out, his voice catching on the word like a rusty nail.

I knew that this conversation would have to happen sooner or later. I had at least hoped to have figured out my own feelings before I had to explain them to Will. I pause before I answer him, making a last ditch attempt at trying to understand it for myself. "I could tell you that I kissed him to lure him to the mast so that I could chain him to it and so we could all have a chance to escape. I thought that was why, at first, I really did."

Will looks troubled now. I can tell he is having difficulty comprehending the idea that his sweet, innocent Elizabeth could commit such a heartless act. Irrationally, I am angry at him for this. How dare he judge me? Closing my eyes, I quell the flame that has burst up inside me and continue.

"I didn't know what it would be like, Will. I didn't know how it would feel to kiss him…it was like I found something I never knew I'd been missing before. He's like me, can't you see that? I never meant to hurt you, Will, I swear it."

He nods, but still doesn't say anything. This silence frightens me more than anything else he could have done. I expected him to rage, to curse me and Jack and the whole bloody ocean. I wish he would hit me, knock me down, anything but this damnable dejected face.

"Please, Will, say something."

"I can forgive you if you can promise me it won't ever happen again."

He looks at me with those eyes that I used to love, that I might still love. I cannot lie to him.

"I can't promise you that, Will."

Now comes the anger, the mouth set in a hard bitten line, the eyes smoldering. "Why not?" He spits the words out like poison. "Why the bloody hell not?"

"Because I don't know…" Don't know anything at all, idiot girl that I am.

"Don't know what?"

He sounds impatient. I can't say that I blame him, really. These feelings of mine are most unfair to him. Perhaps I should lie to him, tell him he's the only man I could ever love. Perhaps we can forget this. I think for a moment longer, and then tell him  
the truth.

"I don't know which of you I'm meant to be with."

He reels back as if I had slapped him. I've hurt him so much and I hate myself for that. I reach to him, wanting to cup his face in my hand, to give him any sort of comfort that I can, but he pulls away from me.

"I worshipped you. And this is how you repay my love? How dare you try to touch me?"

"Will, I never meant to hurt you this way, please, please understand that."

"Go to the ends of the earth. Find your pirate love and stay with him for all I care. Drown in the ocean. I'll make your choice easy. You've lost me, Elizabeth."

He abruptly walks toward the door, pausing on the threshold. He does not look at me even as he speaks his parting words.

"I always thought I was the unworthy one. I was wrong."

And with that, he leaves. Not knowing quite what to do, I lay back down on Tia Dalma's bed. I glance over to the other side of it, at Tia Dalma's still sleeping form. She can't really be asleep. My screaming must have woken her, if nothing else. Perhaps she has her own reasons for keeping silent. I wish for a moment that she would give up the act and at least tell me if Jack is the right choice. She does not. I close my eyes and try to sleep. I have never felt so alone.

* * *

I awaken the next morning to Tia Dalma's eerie singing. I follow the sound of her voice, past jars of sinister looking materials and Spanish moss hanging from every possible surface, to the kitchen, where she is stirring something that looks positively ominous on the stove. The song stops abruptly when I enter the room. Tia Dalma turns from the stove and raises her eyebrows at me, looking either extremely wise or uncommonly daft.

"Where be de young man, Missie Swann?" she asks.

"Will is gone. You know that. You must have heard him…"

"I hear it. Not a ting louder den de breakin' of a young man's heart."

"Then you know…"

"I know many tings, Missie Swann. I know you kill Jack Sparrow."

She says this calmly, without malice, without any emotion at all.

"If I could go back and change things I-"

"Ya cannot."

"I know. But I can at least try to fix what I've done wrong."

"Dis not de only ting you want to do. Dere is more den guilt in your eyes, Missie Swann."

"I don't-" Her piercing gaze murders the lie in my throat. I cannot stand to look at her any more and my eyes drop to my hands. I am fighting back tears. "It's no use anyway. I've gone and ruined it. Even if we do manage to rescue him, he'll hate me."

"Ya don't really tink dat, now do ya. Him heart not made for hatin' you. He see too much himself in your eyes, Missie Swann. Two birds of a feather, one might be sayin.'"

I smile in spite of myself. "He called us two peas in a pod once."

"Aye, dat's de truth. He may be angry wit' you sure, and you deserve dat, for it was a terrible wicked ting you done, but he know he can't hate you wit out hatin' tings in him own self."

"But how could he ever forgive me?"

"I shouldn't tell you dat, chile. Dat be someting you and him mus' figure out for yourselves."

As if this is the final word on the subject, she turns to leave the kitchen, humming softly to herself.

"Tia Dalma?"

She turns to me but says nothing, one eyebrow raised.

"Was I right to tell Will the truth? Was I right to let him go?"

She purses her lips and contemplates for several seconds before she answers me.

"De truth be a dangerous ting. It cause more harm den lies. You love dat young man still, do ya not?"

"Yes," I whisper, desperate.

"But you maybe loving Jack as well, dis true?"

I cannot get words out but I nod my head fervently.

"I cannot tell you if you done de right ting. I know no woman yet dat Jack love more den him precious Pearl."

My shoulders sink under the incredible weight of this truth.

"But…" she says, almost to herself.

My breath catches in my throat as I wait for her to continue.

"If dere be a woman who love her wit' him, who want to share him life and who be content to blow which ever way de wind take her…she might win a place wit' de Pearl in him heart."

I nod, considering this.

"And Will? He'll never forgive me, will he? He hates me now, doesn't he?"

"Now dere you be wrong. It not from hate, but from love dat he will never forgive you. He love you from de day you pull him out of de sea and he love you till de sea take him back. But no. Even if you could tell him dat you will be wit' him forever, he never forget dis, and he never really forgive. He not your destiny no more. Dat door be closed now, by you yourself. It be up to you to find out if de door you open next lead to Jack or to someone else or to no one at all."

Having completed her monologue, she turns her head and looks wide eyed past me, toward the door of her home. Puzzled, I turn around to see what she has been gazing at so intently. Two feet in worn black boots can be seen under the curtain that serves as a door to her treehouse. A brown hand adorned with many jeweled rings pushes the curtain aside and suddenly I am confronted with a face I never thought to see again. There is the matted black hair, the dirty red bandanna, the tattoo of his namesake bird on his wrist and the brand that marks him for what he is. There are his eyes…and here I stop my catalogue of his features because I am lost in the dark, unfathomable depths of those eyes. I cannot read him. How unlike Will he is. I could read every nuance and subtlety of Will's thoughts through his eyes. Jack guards himself better.

"Hello, love. Surprised to see me?"

I do the only sensible thing and faint on Tia Dalma's kitchen floor.


	2. Chapter 2

**CHAPTER 2**

I awaken back in Tia Dalma's bed. Was it all a dream? But no, I hear his voice, the voice of Captain Jack Sparrow, whispering in soft conversation with Tia Dalma. Thinking quickly, I do not open my eyes but listen to their words.

"He jus' let you go, Jack Sparrow? No words, no explainin,' he jus' tell ya to get out? Now why would a man like Davy Jones ever do a ting like dat?"

"Can't really explain it myself, love. He did mention something along the lines of giving me a chance to do what he never could."

"And what be dat?"

"To kill the woman who betrayed him."

My heart skips a beat and it is all I can do not to drop my pretense and fall at his feet, begging for forgiveness.

"Ahhh," Tia Dalma sighs knowingly. "She betray you, did she?"

"Aye, dearie. I think most people would probably call bein' handed over to a disgusting, odorific beastie and condemned to a hundred years of sufferin' in Davy Jones' locker equal to bein' betrayed."

"You probably right, dere, Jack Sparrow. But dere is one ting you not be considerin'."

"And what might that be, love?"

"Ya can only be betrayed if you trus' somebody in de firs' place. Since when does Captain Jack Sparrow give his trus' to a woman not made of wood and rope?"

There is silence. I open my eyes just barely a sliver and see Jack pacing the room, obviously disturbed by Tia Dalma's comment.

"Might have overlooked that," he drawls, half of his mouth turning upward in a wry smile.

"Any ting else you maybe overlook? She an awful lot like you, Jack Sparrow."

The smile has turned into a genuine grin now. "The fact may have occurred to me once or twice. Truth be told, I probably would have done the same thing if I'd been her. Don't go and tell the wench though. I intend to exploit her guilt to my full advantage, savvy?"

"I don' need to be tellin' her. She listening to every word we been sayin' for a while now."

The conversation stalls Having no choice, I slowly sit up in bed, resolutely forcing myself to meet his eyes. Tia Dalma sashays out of the room without another word, leaving the two of us alone. Jack considers me archly, eyes half-lidded, arms folded across his chest. He is waiting for something.

"Jack, I'm sorry for-"

"That's Captain Jack to you, love." He abruptly turns to leave. No, no, not him too.

"Jack!"

He doesn't turn.

"Jack! Oh sod it, Captain Jack!" I practically yell, almost tripping over the blankets in my struggle to follow him as quickly as possible.

At the sound of his customary honorific he spins on his heels and gracefully bows to me in an elaborate show of false politeness. "How might I be of service to you, Miss Swann?"

"You…you're not planning on leaving, are you?"

"Not at the present moment, love. Don't have a boat, for one thing. From what Tia Dalma tells me, your fiancé-"

"Former fiancé, Captain. I went and cocked that one up by kissing a pirate."

He raises his eyebrow at this but says nothing. Brushing away whatever thought has occurred to him, he continues.

"Interestin'. Anyhow, your former fiancé has gone and taken the only boat. Besides which, I thought it might be a better idea to stay off of the seas for the moment, considerin' that your other former fiancé is currently in the possession of a certain thump-thump instrument of doom, savvy?"

"I understand."

He nods his head curtly. "Good. Now if you don't mind…" He turns once more to leave. I want to say something but my mouth will not cooperate.

"Jack, wait!" I almost yell and grab his shoulder as he turns. He winces in pain.

"Captain, captain, captain," he mutters, gingerly pressing his fingertips to the flesh that I have just touched.

"Are you hurt? Did that thing hurt you?"

He spits his words at me harshly. "Course it did. What exactly were you expectin' when you left me there to die?"

"Jack, please believe me. I have never regretted anything more than leaving you there. I'm-" My voice cracks and tears are starting to well over my eyelids. Don't cry, don't cry, he can't stand weeping women. "I'm so sorry for what I did."

"Sorry for everything, love?" His voice startles me with its tenderness. Instantly, hope rises in my breast and I raise my eyes to his. For a moment I can feel the same connection that I felt the moment before I kissed him. From the moment before I betrayed him. Swallowing in an effort to compose myself, I step forward, closing the distance between us. He does not back away, and for a moment I think that he will kiss me. We stand there for a moment, neither of us moving.

"Dead men tell no tales! Rawk!" The squawk of the parrot startles me and I jump. The moment between us is broken. For the third time, Jack turns to go.

"Wait!"

"What now, love?"

"Would you like me to…help? With your shoulder?" Please let me help you, please forgive me.

He looks at his shoulder, examining it for something or other. Or perhaps he's just trying to avoid looking at me.

"Nah," he growls. "Just a scratch. Tia Dalma can dress it later."

"Oh. Alright then. I suppose I'll see you at dinner."

"S'pose so. Good day, Miss Swann."

And with a tip of his hat and a rakish, irreverent grin, he is gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**CHAPTER 3**

Dazed by this mysterious conversation, I stand for a moment watching the doorway, waiting to see if he might reappear. When he does not, it occurs to me that I am a bit tired of having the men in my life decide to end conversations by walking out of the room. With my teeth clenched and my hands balled into fists by my side, I stalk out of the room and into the kitchen, where Jack is sitting on a table with his back to me. They are laughing, no doubt at me. I almost see red.

"Good afternoon, Tia Dalma. Captain Sparrow," I say, sweeping over to sit at the table, every inch the governor's daughter.

Jack turns round to face me, arching one eyebrow. "Hello again, love. Thought I wasn't to be having the pleasure of your company till dinner."

"Sorry to disappoint, Captain." I saw wryly, raising an eyebrow and pushing my face into what I hope is a passable smirk.

"Fine then. Stay or go, doesn't matter to me," he says curtly, turning his back to me. "Now Tia, darling," he continues, "what were we talking about?"

So this is how it's going to be. Fine then, I'll just pretend I won't mind being ignored. At least listening to their conversation is more interesting than listening to my own thoughts.

"We be discussin' the matter of your wound. You say de Kracken bite?"

"Not so much bite as scratch me with one of his teeth as I ran headlong into him."

"But he break de skin?"

"Aye."

Tia Dalma looks worried. That is never a good sign. Despite my anger I am suddenly filled with concern for Jack. It wouldn't surprise me if the bloody beast had poisoned teeth or acid or some such thing. Please, God, don't take him away from me again. Tia Dalma is consulting from an old book covered with Spanish moss.

"Let me see de wound," she orders. "Missie Swann, you come stan' beside me."

She does not leave the option of disobedience. At once I am scrambling around the table and Jack is fumbling with his shirt. When he has removed the shirt he has to fumble with a bandage that has gotten knotted somehow. He is struggling, and I know that it is hurting him. Not knowing quite what I am doing, I step forward and gently lay my hand on top of his fumbling one.

"Let me." I say softly. Startled by my touch, he stills his movements and looks up at me, his eyes still betraying a bit of wildness, like a wounded animal. "Please," I whisper. One brief nod is the only assent that I receive. He looks away, and I focus on his shoulder.

The bandage is covered with dirt and a dark brown stain that I think is blood. As gently as I am able, I work out the clumsy knot that he certainly tied himself. Soon I am able to unwrap the bandage itself. Going becomes more difficult when I reach the final layer. The bandage is stuck to his skin and I fear that to remove it will reopen the wound.

"This is going to hurt, Jack," I warn him. He nods, still refusing to meet my eyes. Gritting my teeth, I tear the bandage away as fast as I am able. I know that this must have hurt, but a sharp intake of breath is his only indication of the pain he must have felt. I marvel at his strength of will before noticing the injury that is now uncovered. The gash in his shoulder is only about six inches long, but it is deep and wide. He is bleeding, and his skin has taken on a greenish tinge around the edges of the wound. It is an ugly thing. It seems that the Kracken's teeth were poisoned.

"Oh Jack, I'm so sorry." I whisper. Oh God, how could I have left him to that thing. The world blurs as tears well up in my eyes, threatening to overflow. I close my eyes in an attempt to compose myself and suddenly I feel the soft pressure of his hand on my cheek. His touch startles away my tears. Hardly able to believe that this is real, I lean into his hand, taking comfort from its warmth. For a moment we stay like that, and I dare not open my eyes for fear it will cause him to let go. Tia Dalma's book slamming shut startles me out of my reverie. Jack whips away his hand before I can even open my eyes. For a moment I wonder if I imagined the whole thing. The look on Jack's face tells me I did not.

"You truly want to repay your debt, Missie Swann?" Tia Dalma asks, eyeing me closely.

I nod fervently. "More than ever," I respond, speaking more to Jack than to her.

"Den you listen close. De bite of de Kracken can only be healed if it be cleaned by a soul willing to die. Once de wound be cleaned, it will close by it own self, and de one who clean it will suffer all de poison and de pain of de wound. Only de strong of heart survive dis. Are you willing to risk your life for dis man, Missie Swann, who you left to die before?"

"No," says Jack. "She's not going to do it."

"I'll do it, Tia Dalma, if you have to tie him up to get him to allow it."

Jack glares at me, then seems to shrug it off. "Fine, love. Do what you will. Just no more handcuffs, savvy?"

I nod and take the clean cloths and warm water that Tia Dalma has prepared. Gingerly, as if I am approaching a wild animal, I sit beside him on the table. I dip the cloth in the water and gently press it against his shoulder, wiping away some of the dirt and grime. When one cloth is too dirty to use, I pull another from the pile and begin again. All I can hear from Jack is his steady breathing, in and out. I don't know which of us started it, but somehow we are breathing in time with each other. For awhile there seems to be no change in the wound, except that it has lost its greenish tinge. I keep wiping away the blood, trying to focus on nothing but Jack's shoulder. It is hard, however, to ignore the proximity of our bodies. If he would just turn his head, or if I dared to inch just a little bit closer…bad Elizabeth, focus on healing him and worry about that later.

"You've the touch of an angel, Lizbeth," Jack murmers softly. His voice is huskier than normal, thick with something I dare not name. "I've always thought so, even before…"

"Shh, Jack. I'm not finished yet," I whisper, but my heart leaps at his words. Apparently I'm not the only one who noticed how close we are.

"You don't have to do this, love."

I pause for a moment and look at him. "Yes. I do," I reply simply. I need to do this. With a few final passes of the cloth, the wound closes and almost disappears, leaving nothing but a thin, white scar. I stand, sighing in relief and exhaustion.

"It's done, Jack. You're healed."

He examines his shoulder and his eyes widen in surprise. He grins at me, and I smile weakly back.

"Well, it seems we're square then, don't it?" He says with a roguish, gold-colored grin. He also stands, and we are face to face once more. An awkward silence grows between us.

"Jack, I – ahh!" I scream at the fire that suddenly appears in my shoulder. I claw at my shirt, finally succeeding in pushing it off my shoulder to reveal…nothing. No blood, no cut, just the clean skin of my bare shoulder, but then why does it feel like red-hot knives are stabbing me over and over? It's maddening. So this is what Jack felt for all those days. Ho could he bear it? No one could tolerate this. My knees buckle and Jack's arms are around me before I can hit the floor, holding me up, keeping me from falling.

"It hurts, Jack," I whisper through gritted teeth. "How could you bear it?" This is all I can manage before I start shuddering with the pain of the wound and speech becomes impossible. I feel Jack's hands caressing my hair, trying to soothe me with a litany of touches and words whispered gently into my ear.

"Shh, Lizzie, I know it hurts, but you're strong, you're a pirate, you'll make it through this, it's nothing, don't even think about it, Jack's here and you'll be just fine, be strong Lizzie, be strong, I'm here…"

His voice fades into nothing as I sink into blessed, blessed, pain-free unconsciousness.


	4. Chapter 4

CHAPTER FOUR

The next few days pass in a blur. I drift in and out of consciousness, barely aware of anything but the pain. Sometimes I see faces. Tia Dalma is there quite a bit, wiping my head with a cool cloth or feeding me some foul concoction that tastes bloody awful but helps with the pain. Gibbs appears sometimes, his hat in his hand, looking worried and uncomfortable. Even Barbossa, who pats me on the head and tells me I'm "a good lass," shows up for the occasional visit.

I never see Jack, but I hear him whispering to me almost constantly, a steady stream of "be strong Lizzie, I'm here Lizzie, you'll get right past this and we'll be the most fearsome pirates in the Spanish Main" and other such things. The words mean nothing, but the steady tone seems to give me strength, as does the pressure of his hand on mine.

I lose count of the number of days and nights that pass like this. It seems like the pain will never end. I want to die but I can't, because Jack is holding on to me, keeping me from leaving with his voice and his touch.

And then, as suddenly as it appeared, it is gone. I awake one morning, just as the sun is rising, to find that the fire in my shoulder has simply disappeared. I examine it and realize that I now have a thin white scar that exactly matches the one on Jack's shoulder. I suppose no pain like that could pass without leaving some mark. At first I think I am alone in the room, but then my eyes wander to the chair beside my bed.

Jack.

He has fallen asleep with his hat tipped over his face. I try to remove it without waking him, but he starts and mutters "hard to starboard." He blinks for a moment and then seems to realize where he is.

"Hello there, Lizbeth. Decide to stay with us, then?" His voice is nonchalant, but I can see the relief in his eyes. Is it relief for himself or for Will?

I want to say some words of gratitude, to thank him for keeping me alive, but I can't. Not just yet. "How long was I…"

"Four days. It seemed to break 'round midnight last night, because you stopped your writhing and moaning and fell asleep. That's when I dropped off as well, it seems."

"Then you were here the whole time? Jack, you didn't have to do something like that."

He grins at me. "No trouble at all, love. You looked quite bewitching at times, with the moaning and the writhing and whatnot."

There was a time when I would have blushed and reprimanded him for such a remark. Now I can only manage a small smile. Death hasn't changed him one bit.

"Same old scoundrel, as always. Jack, did Davey Jones-"

"Let's not discuss that just yet, love." There is no room for argument in his tone. I will not push him for now. Besides, there are other things on my mind.

"Jack, when I…when we…did you…what I mean to say is…"

"Spit it out, love. Or did that phantasmic Kracken bite of yours addle your brains?"

"I'm not addled, Jack. And that bite wasn't so phantasmic either. Look, we match." I push my shirt off of my left shoulder to reveal the scar. His eyebrows shoot up at the sight. He is intrigued by the scar, so like his own. He slowly reaches forward, almost as if he wished to touch it, but suddenly he thinks better of it and folds his hands in his lap. Hastily, I cover myself again. I am dimly aware of the fact that the shirt is all I am wearing. How did that happen? Surely Jack didn't…no Elizabeth, don't go there. Tia Dalma must've undressed me. Fortunately, the sheets preserve some small sense of modesty, though the cotton is very thin. Jack's eyes have not left my face. I could get lost in the darkness of them.

"You were saying, love?" His voice snaps me out of my reverie. He is smirking that damned smirk again and I have the sneaking suspicion that he knows what I've been thinking.

"Do you really forgive me? For what I did to you?" This is not really what I wanted to ask…something involving more kissing and possible ravishment, perhaps, but I can't really say anything along those lines. It's dangerous to even think those things.

He nods, curtly. "We're square now, like I said. Peas in a pod, you and me. Besides, having a loyal crew never was one of me best points, now was it?"

I smile again. "No, I suppose not. But I'll never do anything like that again, Jack. I couldn't betray you like that again."

"And why's that, love?"

"Because it felt too much like betraying myself. No, I could never do that to you again."

Jack pauses for a moment, seemingly deep in thought. "Now, that's interesting, love, because I can't really be sure which 'that' you're referring to, now can I? Because if it's the 'that' in which you chain me to my ship and leave me for dead, well then that'd be fine by me. However, if you're referring to the 'that' in which you kissed me senseless enough to allow you to perform said chaining, well then I might have to take issue with that particular 'that.'"

I shake my head for a moment, trying to translate this babble into normal English. Did he just insinuate that he wanted to kiss me again?

"Well love, which is it?"

"Which what's what?"

"Now really love, it's not that difficult, just tell me if the 'that' which you were referring to-"

I can't take any more of this. "Stop, just bloody stop!"

Jack's mouth closes abruptly. I'd better just get it all out before I lose the courage to say anything at all.

"Do you want to kiss me again? Because I've wanted to kiss you again from the moment that I left you on that ship. I don't know if I love you or if you're even capable of loving anyone as much as you love that bloody boat, but I do know is that I have never had a kiss like that before in my life and if I never have another one again I may very well go mad!"

The impossible has happened. The great Captain Jack Sparrow is speechless. He opens his mouth, closes it, stands up, sits back down, stands once more and paces about the bedroom for an interminable while before coming to sit next to me on the bed. He cocks his head to one side and grins at me, that same stupid, infuriating smirk.

"Why didn't you just say that in the first place, love?"

And then somehow he is leaning closer, his lips are touching mine, and all is right with the world.


	5. Chapter 5

CHAPTER FIVE

It feels different this time. There is no less passion than before, but now we are in no hurry. There is no Kraken chasing us, no demon pirates, there is only him and me and this sweet, slow burning desire between us. His kisses are firm and demanding, a pirate's kisses, with nothing tentative or chaste about them. I feel his hand brushing slowly up my arm, caressing my shoulder, my neck, his fingers tangling in the hair that spills down my back. In return, I wrap my arms around his neck and pull him closer, needing to feel more of him.

His kisses grow harder, even more filled with desire, and I moan into his mouth. He takes this opportunity to deepen the kiss, exploring my mouth with his tongue. He is running his hands up and down my back, each stroke of his arms pulling me closer to him. Suddenly it has become a battle for dominance, each of us fighting for control over the other. Just as suddenly, I realize it's a battle neither of us would really mind losing.

God, it never felt like this with Will. There is a need here that wasn't there before, a need to be joined with him, an ache between my legs for something I don't really understand. The only word I can think of is 'more.' I need more of him.

I let out a soft cry of anguish as we pull apart and simply stare at each other for a moment. Dimly I realize that there is no going back from this point. Unless one of us stops this, we will do something that can never be undone for either of us. I know he won't stop it, and I don't think I could, even if I wanted to.

He seems to have made the same realization, for he lets out a low growl and springs at me, pulling me onto his lap and kissing me into oblivion. I growl back, laughing at him, and shift my legs so that I have one on either side of him, wrapped around him. He supports me with both hands, encouraging me to press against him. With our bodies so close, his desire for me becomes apparent. I marvel at the warm, hard bulge in his trousers, instinctively moving against it, feeling the heat rise between us. This feels right, but it is not enough and I cry out in frustration from something I cannot name.

"Shh, s'alright love. We'll take care of that presently," he whispers, and chuckles, his eyes dark with desire, but still somehow managing to twinkle.

He leans in to kiss me and I hear the most awful noise in the entire world.

The door is creaking open.

I turn my head and see Gibbs bustling in looking cheerful. I freeze, with my legs still wrapped around Jack.

"Well, Cap'n, how's the little lady doing today?" He says, as he enters. "Is she-" he looks up and gulps when he sees our compromising position.

I panic and try to move but Jack's arms hold me fast where I am.

"Yes, Mr. Gibbs. I was just taking the liberty of – er – making sure Miss Elizabeth is in – er, well – good physical condition after her long illness. We can discuss it once the – er – examination – is complete."

Gibbs looks puzzled, but nods. "Right you are, Cap'n. Will you be needing-"

"Oh hang it all, Gibbs, get out. Right now." He punctuates this sentence with a frustrated wave of his hand.

"Aye aye, Cap'n," he says with a sharp salute, and practically bolts out the door.

"Should have locked it," he mutters, bending to kiss my neck.

I cannot shake our interruption so easily. "Shouldn't we lock it now?" I breathe.

"No need," he growls in between kisses. "Gibbs gossips more than a mother hen. The crew will soon know all about this, and will realize that if they don't want their heads blown off, they'll stay away until I give the word."

"Oh," I breathe. This information, while somewhat embarrassing, does calm my fears, and I allow myself to relax into his embrace, thoroughly enjoying the sensation of his lips on my neck and jawline.

He moans and pushes my shirt off of my shoulder, revealing my scar. His lips are on it before I can protest, and I sigh softly at the feeling of his lips and fingers brushing against the sensitive skin, his hot breath almost tickling.

Hardly knowing what I am doing, I reach my hands in between us and fumble with the buttons of his shirt, fingers shaking as I remove the thin, cotton barrier between us. I run my fingers over the hard, brown planes of his chest and stomach, reaching around to caress the criss-crossed scars on his back. I revel in each grunt and moan of pleasure I elicit from him. He growls and reaches one hand in between us. His fingers don't fumble at all as he unbuttons my own buttons, one by one.

I raise my eyes to his, questioning.

"Fair's fair, love," he whispers with a gold-colored grin and a roguish chuckle. He must note the uncertainty in my eyes because he swoops in to kiss me hard, pulling me to him, convincing me of his desire and sincerity with his mouth and his hands. Sighing my acceptance and relief, I shrug the shirt off of my shoulders and lean back onto the bed. Any doubts or fears about my own body are immediately stifled by the look in his eyes. For the first time in my life, I know what it is to be desired. And oh God in heaven, I desire him too.

"Come here, Jack. Make love to me."

He stands and for one moment I fear he is going to leave me again, but no, he is only removing his trousers and boots with a slow, catlike grace that only makes me more impatient to have him.

Soon he is sliding up my body, his legs entwined with mine, and I gasp at the feeling of smooth skin on smooth skin. We are flush against each other and I can feel the hardness of his desire pressing against my thigh.

"Lizzie," he whispers into my ear, nipping the lobe just hard enough to make me gasp.

"Oh Jack, please," I whisper, not quite sure what it is I am asking for.

"Mmm," he murmers and begins a slow, methodical exploration of my body with his hands and mouth. The sensation of his hands and mouth on my breasts and stomach is almost overpowering, and I moan harder, aching with pleasure.

His fingers snake lower and I freeze, attempting to jerk my legs together. His body between my thighs prevents it.

"Shh, love. Trust ol' Jack, eh? I promise you won't regret it."

I nod and relax a bit. His fingers are now running up and down the insides of my thighs, always almost touching my core but never quite reaching it. I close my eyes, but I can hear murmurs of words like "beautiful" and "goddess" and "pirate" coming from his mouth. When his hands finally come into contact with my wet heat, it is a relief as well as a pleasure. Oh god, I can feel something building in me, a pressure, a need for his hands to keep doing whatever they're doing. It's a terrifying feeling, but I cannot and will not ask him to stop.

I hear moaning and it takes me a second to realize that those noises are coming from myself. Just when I feel that I am about to burst, he removes his hand.

"Jack?" I question breathlessly.

He only grins at me, then before I can stop him he lowers his mouth to my sex. He laves at me as if I am the most delicious thing he has ever tasted, and I marvel at this for a moment before I am lost in the tidal wave of feeling that overwhelms me. I am grinding myself against his mouth, the pressure in me growing stronger and stronger until I explode in a burst of light and feeling that seems as though it will never end.

When I come back to myself, Jack has returned to rest on top of me, his fingers caressing the side of my face and twining themselves into locks of my hair.

I feel a twinge of embarrassment at my wantonness, and open my mouth to apologize, but he places his fingers over my lips, silencing me.

"Don't even think about apologizing for being too forward or some other such prudishness. You're quite stunning in the throes of passion, love, and it's a sight I want to see often."

In response, I kiss his fingers and wrap my arms around him, drawing him down against my body. He returns my embrace and begins to move against me, his erection once more pressing against my thigh. Instinctively, I open my legs and guide him between them. He gasps and presses himself closer into me, grinding against my heat with little grunts that rekindle the heat in my loins. I know what comes next, but he seems to be uncertain about something.

"Jack," I whisper. "Make love to me."

He looks into my eyes and nods, still seeming somewhat unsure of himself.

"It's going to hurt, love. The first time. Are you sure…"

"Jack," I say again, more insistent this time. "Please."

He nods again, allowing a small smile to play across his lips. He kisses me gently as he positions himself at my opening. I feel a sharp pressure, then a ripping sensation that feels like it's going to tear me in two and I cry out against his kiss, a few tears escaping my eyes as he pushes his way inside me.

He stills his motion and shushes me gently, kissing away my tears one by one. After I have calmed down a bit, he gently begins rocking inside of me. Soon the pain fades and I am marveling at the new feeling of fullness and motion inside of me. I begin to experiment with matching his thrusts and am delighted when he moans in pleasure.

"Christ, Lizabeth," he breathes and begins thrusting in earnest, kissing me hard on the lips. I match his movements and soon we are moaning into each other's mouths, our tongues matching the dance of our bodies. All pain is forgotten as I lose myself in him, and I can feel the heat building inside of me again. I am clinging to him desperately with each thrust, trying to bring him as deep as he will go. I feel myself falling over the edge and I cry out his name as I fall, begging him to come with me.

I hear my name being cried out in return and feel him spill himself inside of my in a final desperate thrust. He collapses on top of me, shuddering his release as I am still feeling my own. He rests his head on my shoulder and we lay like that for awhile, recovering from the forces that had overpowered us. When he lifts his head I feel a wetness on my shoulder. Has Captain Jack Sparrow been crying? The redness of his eyes betrays him, but I will not be so cruel as to point this out to him. Instead I reach my hand up to cup the side of his face. He leans into my hand and kisses the palm before rolling off of me to fetch a cloth from the washbasin beside the bed. He cleans himself in silence and offers another cloth to me. I also wipe away the evidence of our coupling silently, unable to process what has just occurred.

I reach for my shirt, but he grabs my hand and leads me in silence over to the bed.

"The rest of the world can wait, love," he says, his voice rumbling in his throat. He lies down and pulls me against him, nestling me against his chest and drawing the covers over us both.

I know that we have things to discuss, he and I, and then a whole slew of issues in the outside world to deal with as well, but I can't seem to remember them. The feeling of strong arms wrapped around me and the whisper of his breath against my shoulder calms me, and I allow myself to be lulled to sleep by the sound of cicadas and the breeze through the swamp trees.


End file.
